


Until Our Hearts Give Out

by dasakuryo



Series: fluttering thrill at the end of our fingertips (blissbirth) [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of Scarif, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasakuryo/pseuds/dasakuryo
Summary: They could die tomorrow, Jyn knows it. And it's the thought of loosing Cassian what makes her chest ache, but also turns her bolder. //[fill for the ask meme prompt"we could die tomorrow" kisson tumblr]





	Until Our Hearts Give Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassandor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandor/gifts).



> Written for forestpenguin as a fill for the ask meme prompts on Tumblr. Hope you all enjoy! :)

Jyn hadn't intended for it to happen at all. She was busy fiddling with the energy cell of her blaster, checking, trying to put it into place, when her gaze fixed on Cassian.

He was engrossed in the very same task, but there was a heavy assault rifle on his hands instead. She saw his soot stained fingers, the concentration lines ploughing through his face. The breath she drew in burned in her lungs.

She tried to focus again, ground her mind in the moment once more, but it kept wandering off to what awaited them. A ground assault to depose the Imperial government on Devaron. An offensive to free the people from Imperial rule, an offensive to strengthen the Rebellion in its fight against the oppressive totalitarianism of the Galactic Empire. Their boots trudging on the ground, the sound of their blaster fire— the cost would be high, its currency the reddest of all.

Victory would be achieved at the cost of light fading into oblivion, selfless heroes meeting their end with a thump to the ground, amidst the deafening noise and blinding light of ion bombs, mines. Victory would be paid in lives cut short, lives selflessly put on the line of fire for the cause—

For freedom.

They could both be bodies thumping down on the mud of Devaron tomorrow.

They could _die_ tomorrow.

The notion didn't scare her. Death wasn't the problem; Jyn had made peace with the brevity of life a long time ago. She knew that it could all end in the blink of an eye, knew how utterly ephemeral life could be. It wasn't death what made pain blossom in her chest. What was weighing down in her heart was something more complex, skewed and pierced by deeper, tangling feelings.   

It was losing Cassian, all what they _were_ , all they _could be_ crumbling down to pieces, vanishing into darkness. It was losing the only ounce of happiness, serene glimmer of solace that had sprout from the horrors of this war.

If she survived, but he perished —how would she go on for herself. For others, for the galaxy, she could do that. After Scarif, she had made the choice: committing to something bigger than herself. She had _not_ stayed because of Cassian, she hadn't joined the Pathfinders for him. She stuck by the Rebellion because nobody, not even herself, would be able to _live_ , _truly_ live, truly be _free_ , until the Empire was burnt to the ground across the galaxy.

Surviving was existing, not _living_.

Jyn was tired of existing.

The glimmer of hope she'd been struck with gave her something to hope for herself, after the war, when before her fire had been nothing but dying embers, fading into a pool of darkness. They were going to put their lives on the line for the future of others. A commitment neither of them, nor any of the rebels, had taken lightly—

But the ever looming fear of the unknown made her blood run cold in her veins. It wasn't fear of dying what she was feeling.

It was fear of losing what it could be— what she'd lose, what she'd never get to feel, to have—

If she lost him, if he lost her, if they lost one another... They would never get to know how it would be like— to be together in peace time. Even the looming threat hanging over their heads tasted sour, felt utterly _unfair_. Them, who'd never know anything but war, them who'd never truly lived, merely had learnt to survive.

"Can you give me a hand?" Cassian's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She placed the blaster down on top of the others in the crate.

Each grabbed opposite ends of the blaster canon. Their boots trudged and clanked on the ramp, she hushed a warning when one of the sides almost bumped and scratched along the durasteel wall. The metal still screeched. Cassian hushed another warning, but her face was already contorting when her heels stood on air.

"You okay?" Cassian asked, as she grabbed her end of the canon again —better to have a canon with dented durasteel than a soldier with fractured bones or a twisted ankle. She gave a sharp nod. She focused then on the brighter lines and scrapes on the metal, she didn't want to gaze into that worry clouding his eyes again. She swallowed down the words jostled in her throat.

The returned to the hangar, the place buzzing with activity was not enough to drone out completely the thoughts tugging at her mind.

"Maybe you should drop by the medbay," she heard Cassian say, Jyn heard the tweets as he shuffled through the crate's control panel, "get that checked," when he waved his hand, pointing vaguely at her feet with waggling fingers, hers gripped on the cloth littered with soot and oil tighter; "make sure you haven't pulled… strained a muscle… or anything," his voice lowered to whispering, until it fade into silence.

"I'm fine," she assured, whisking the cloth by her side.

Perhaps she should have just let it drop on the durasteel instead; judging by the way Cassian twirled his neck at the whistling sound. She avoided meeting his gaze, even though she could practically feel it glued to her every move. She bit the rim of her tongue, fixed the laces of her right boot that had loosened. She sucked in a breath; the bootlaces burnt her skin, practically digging into her fingers when she fastened them.

She knew what Cassian was doing. Or at least she suspected it —perhaps she was misreading the whole situation but, deep down, it stirred the feeling he wanted to find a way to keep her off the mission. Her fingers rubbed her neck, feeling the hard bumps and ridges, she fluttered her eyes shut at the thought, tried to keep her breathing even. The anger rising up in her chest mixed with the dread from earlier, still bubbling in her veins with every thump of her heart.

She heard the sound of light but brisk footsteps, dragging near. She took a deep breath. There was a clank and a distinctive swish, Jyn could tell apart the ruffle of Cassian's parka anywhere. She kept on rubbing her neck, peering through but a slit, refusing to open her eyes wide.

Jyn waited. A few more fleeting, brief rustles later she heard him clearing his throat. She was expecting him to say something straightforwardly, convince her to go to the medbay, rationalize the whole point; but she heard his voice on the verge of quivering instead. And just like that, her anger subsided as quickly as it had flared up, quicker when she noted his tone —that lower tone, soft, sometimes the softer the nearer it laced around awkwardness.

It had been genuine concern —yes, perhaps it did tiptoe around an inherent undertone of keeping her from joining the assault… but judging by the way he was twiddling his fingers and alternating between fixing his gaze on her face and on the floor, maybe the fear had unconsciously wrapped around his tongue. The same fear that kept gripping her—

They could die tomorrow.

Cassian's hand twitched under hers. She felt his index finger; small creases appeared on the right corner of his mouth, right below the almost imperceptible dimple treading on his cheek. She traced the ridges, the hard up and downs of his hand. She felt the tension tapering off. With slow, tentative shift, she slid her fingers in between his.  

He squeezed her hand, clasped it tightly in his. For a moment, and then the grip slackened. She scraped her lip with her teeth, she knew his swift withdrawal had no other reason of materializing that the crowd around them —even if Jyn highly doubted that said crowd was even paying them attention at all, she doubted that someone would go and inform high command of their _fraternization_ , if they put two and two together. Jyn knew for a fact that while relationships between members of the rebellion were not allowed, there were many of those unfolding and thriving. Like her and Cassian. Like Shara and Kes.

It was punishable by the book, but in practice Jyn had known everyone turned a blind eye as long as said relationship wasn't putting anyone in harm's way or jeopardizing the Rebellion. Jyn doubted anyone could even see them holding hands. And if they could indeed see, Jyn couldn't care less about it—

Particularly now.

Cold bit at her skin where the warmth of Cassian's hand had nestled. Her fingers curled and took hold of his hand again, firmly, and as tight as his squeeze had been. Boldness thumped in her chest. Turning braver, she brushed away the lock of dark hair that, disarranged, framed the side of his face. His eyes widened, he seemed to freeze under the ghostly touch of her fingertips.

"Jyn, we are— they can see us," his whisper was flat, but the tinge of concern was echoing right underneath its monochord surface.

_Let them see._

_We could die tomorrow._

_I don't care._

She didn't give voice to any of the retorts that flickered through her mind. She fisted his jacket instead, leant forward. She was barely inches away from Cassian now, her vest and his parka rubbed against each other with the sway of their breathing. Cassian's had quickened, his eyes gazing at her, never leaving her face.

Jyn blinked, licking her lips.

She thought of the canon they had packed onto the ship, of the blasters they had loaded. She thought of the blood-freezing sound of a limp body hitting the ground, she thought of the gruesome sight of witnessing light extinguishing from eyes, as life left and painted them dull.

She thought of the uncertainty of their lives, of their unpredictable future.

She glanced at his lips, then met his gaze. When she leant forward and upwards, craning her neck and lifting her chin, she met warm support halfway. Her face cradled in his hand, his heave curled into her mouth, she choked on it before his lips even touched hers.

_They could die tomorrow._

The thought flickered again as he, as she, deepened the kiss. They could die tomorrow; and right then the only thing tethering them to the now was the promise they prayed in each other's mouths. A promise which complex wording they'd failed to say translated into physical language, a language that spoke in mingled exhales, in teeth awkwardly clashing together, in tongues resting on teeth and lips, in tongues on tongues, in lips on lips.

He panted on her lips, right into her slightly opened mouth. The tip of his nose nuzzled her cheek. Her fingers relaxed, spreading and brushing along, up, until they found the softness of his hair. She ruffled the short locks on his nape, the skin he grazed with the tip of his nose as he moved tingled with shivers. The brush of his thumb pressing down on her chin made her lips curl.

"I thought you said something about people watching," she whispered, and even though she tried she couldn't stop her voice from shaking with the giggle she'd clearly not succeeded in stifling.

His index finger lifted her chin. She bit her lip at the smile creasing his cheeks, the warm glistening eyes staring into hers.

"I might have re-evaluated my stance," his voice was but a rustle sweeping over her mouth.

She clamped her lips together, but her body still shuddered with laughter. She arched an eyebrow when the tip of his thumb applied more pressure on the slope of her chin; a trace of a smile played across his features, but the warm smile in his eyes and not curling his lips.

She was tempted to keep on teasing him, ask why. But he nudged her chin again; and whatever Jyn was thinking about uttering died somewhere between her brain and her tongue when his exhale, warm, swept over her lips and sent tickles over her skin. He gave her chin another gentle, but firmer, prod downwards. Her heartbeat hummed the moment their lips finally met, and when he slid his tongue in her mouth, the moist stroke made her blood sing in her veins.

She breathed him in, deepened that caress until her chest ached and her lungs screamed for her to breathe, properly breathe. She did so against Cassian's mouth, swallowing his shuddering pant and heaves along too. She felt him smiling against her lips.

Something tugged in her chest when his fingers laced with hers. His forehead rested against hers, and the rhythmical touch of the swing of his chest as he caught his breath made her curl his fingers into her palm.

"My feet are fine, by the way," she found herself whispering.

She held onto the sound of his chuckle, tried to burn the ripple of his laughter into her memory, just in case that—

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, glad the puffiness of the fur lining the parka's hood blocked her face from prying eyes –even from Cassian's. She took a deep breath, and although her eyes were squeezed shut they still burnt behind her eyelids.

His fingers kneaded her neck over her scarf. When she clutched his jacket, they meandered to her hair and swept away the locks framing her face. Her eyes fluttered open when his palm cradled her face, there was a ghost of sadness, of understanding, clouding the bright warmness that had filled them barely moments ago. His thumb lined her cheek.  

"It'll be alright," Cassian murmured, and there was something about the softness of that whisper that made her want to believe him without any ounce of doubt. But she couldn't, she'd thought the very same thing, everything would be alright, when the ship swarmed the sky of Lah'mu. And the first body she'd ever heard falling limp to the ground had been her mother's—

That wasn't supposed to happen.

The first blow to her hope.

She couldn't just believe that everything would be alright. That's what she'd thought on that last mission with Saw, and in the blink of an eye they were betrayed and Saw, choking with his own blood, had told her to hide—

That he would come back for her.

And he hadn't. Surely, she was now alive because of that decision —Saw leaving her behind, keeping her away from danger, from even the mere idea of betrayal of those around him. It didn't change the fact it had brought pain, stabbing, searing pain that at sixteen had dwindle the fire burning in her heart, the second blow to her hope.

She'd just learnt to hope again, for herself. She didn't want that new, small light to go out like it had before.

"We have hope," she found herself replying.

Cassian pressed a kiss to her forehead. When his arms wrapped around her, she snuggled against him, heard the hammering beats of his heart. Jyn told herself the time would come when she would wake up to that song every morning.

* * *

 

The ship was about to drop out of hyperspace and break through Devaron atmosphere, the bright sea of blue and bright elongated stars swirled outside the ship. Jyn could see the nervousness around her. Everyone was fidgeting, rolling their shoulders, twiddling their fingers or tapping them on their blasters.

It was like breathing electricity. Without warning, the ship jolted and she'd to clasp the handle tighter, managing to keep her balance.  

"Cassian," she could barely let the words out, when he walked past her.

He halted, turned his head to look at her and flashed her a smile, that tiny smile of barely curled lips, and yet impossibly bright. Her lips curved in response, but she curled her fingers into her palm, fighting down the urge to reach for his arm.

 

"Seriously— Why didn't you kiss her, mate?"

Melshi's question nearly made Cassian choke with his own breathing. He looked at him, eyes wide in an incredulous stare. Body growing stiff with tension, he somehow managed to retort an apparent confused, "and why would I do that?" perhaps not the best choice of words to brush the question off.

To his side, there was an unmistakably snort followed by a muffled amused chuckle that he'd recognize anywhere; Cassian mentally kicked himself.

"Really? You're going with that?" Kes practically laughed in his face, arranging the strap of his blaster on his shoulder, "everyone knows you're a thing."

He shuffled back a step, his eyebrows squished together. It couldn't be, Kes was out of the question, he'd told him himself —or perhaps Shara had beat him to that, he'd never know for sure. But, everyone knew?

"I— what? How did—" he stammered, the rise in his voice didn't help either.

Melshi shrugged, and provided an off-handedly and matter-of-fact, "you smile now, you know," he gestured vaguely forth into the nothingness of air as he frowned, "truly smile, when _she_ 's around."

"And you never smile and loosen up like that, not even when Mór tells one of her tales, or manages to get you to drink," Bartek chimed in, checking the energy-cells of his blaster, "or both."

The pat of Kes on his shoulder startled him, and even pushed him forward. His fingers gripped his arm; he arched an eyebrow before saying in the most serious tone he'd ever heard from him, "you go back there and kiss her," Melshi nodded and Bartek hummed, both obviously in agreement. If there was any doubt they weren't merely teasing him about it, certainly Kes' next addition dispelled them all, "o te juro que voy a patearte el culo, Andor. Y no es un eufemismo, es literal."

"We're all okay with it," Melshi insisted, bumping his fist on his other shoulder.

"I—what— no!"

It would be extremely weird, awkward and—

"Do you wanna kiss her or not?" kriff, even Aisha knew, "she's been stealing glances at you since we left the base, so that you know," she added, briskly. Cassian was almost sure she even whispered an exasperated _men_.

"Everyone already knows you're together, it won't be weird," Kes prompted, as if he could read his thoughts, "oh, wait, I might be mistaken—"

Cassian reacted a second too late, by the time he realized what Kes was about to do when he placed his hands at each side of his mouth his voice was already roaring above the chattering and the sounds of anxious anticipation before battle. The ship plunged into silence, and Cassian was sure everyone in the neighbouring ships had heard him.

"Hey you, the shiny!" Kes shouted, pointing at the the nineteen year old teen, yet to be baptized in battle, that straightened up at the sound of his commander officer voice on the opposite end of the ship, "Jurian! Did you know that Sergeant Erso and Major Andor are together?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Cassian did see the way in which Jyn's face contorted and twisted with both surprise and shock.

"No, sir!" the boy shouted back, the trembling of his hand on the blaster faded, surely relieved at the topic of the question.

"Well, now _everyone_ in this kriffing ship knows," Kes shouted back to the crowd.

Cassian saw shadows of smiles breaking through faces and curling lips, he heard the ring of giggles and chuckles. He swallowed, and for a fleeting second locked eyes with Jyn, who seemed both startled and nervous, biting her lips. When the Zabrak girl high-fived her, he knew he was in too deep.

Not that he didn't want to kiss her— but the whole situation was weird, to say the least.

"For kriff's sake—we can all be going to our deaths" Aisha yelled and someone agreed with another yell, "all those in favor that they kiss raise your hands, paws, tentacles or whatever kriff you have for extremities!"

There was a roar of approval, and everyone raised their hand, paws, tentacles _and whatever kriff they had for extremities_. Cassian swallowed, Kes bumped him in the shoulder. Under other circumstances, he would have bumped him right back on the arm, but his heart was pounding in his ears, he guessed the bubbling dread he was feeling must be what ordinary teenagers felt like when they introduced their partners to their families. Not that he'd ever had the chance to experience that beforehand.

There was a new chorus of glee when Jyn, _of all people_ , interjected with a faked frustrated and enraged, "don't we have a say in this?"

"Shut up, Erso! Like you haven't wanted to plant a good one on him since we left!" Aisha shouted back, voice quivering on the verge of shrieking with laugher.

When Jyn looped her arms around his neck, surprisingly everyone else seemed to vanish. The world fell away, and the only thing he was conscious of was the warm softness of her lips brushing, moving against his. It was deep and slow, yet brief —none of them wanting to make a spectacle out of it.

 

Jyn was thankful for the roaring that erupted in celebration around them. Glad only he could hear, she breathed the question on his lips, "are you with me?"

"All the way." 

**Author's Note:**

> I had to include that last scene, even though it didn't quite fit with the theme of the prompt. It was a too tempting a chance to ignore, to be honest :) I also wanted to ending it on a fluffier, lighter mood, because we've had too much angst already with all of Rogue One, and these two in particular as well, they deserve the happiness... and the teasing ;p There's something about Kes being the one in charge of it that I find hilarious. Hope you've enjoyed the story! :) Feedback is sincerely appreciated!
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Translation**  
>  -"o te juro que voy a patearte el culo, Andor. Y no es un eufemismo, es literal.": Or I swear I am going to kick your ass, Andor. And it's not an euphemism, I mean it literally.


End file.
